Still waters. I like still waters.
I like the warm sand, cool and damp when I dig my toes into it. I like the sound of the waves, I like the white bright light of the sun, and I like the horizon so far away. But I don't like the feel of the water that moves and moves and moves without ever stopping. Lakes and pools - where the water stays in one place - are where I like to swim. When I went to the beach last week, I kept my notebook next to me, dry.
The girl in the yellow shirt was at the beach with her family. Her father, dressed in slacks and white button-down shirt, stood the entire time he was there. Her mother napped on a blanket. Her little sister fussed in a stroller and the girl in the yellow shirt sat with the toddler in the sand and built a castle, topped with a small umbrella she took from the stroller. Her father told her the stroller umbrella didn't belong in the sand. A vendor walked by selling peeled mangos on a stick for $3 and the girl in the yellow shirt asked for one, but her father said no. Then the girl in the yellow shirt stood up without a word, pulled a shower cap on her head and walked to the shore. When she came back, she brought a handful of broken shells and she quickly added them to the castle because her father said it was time to go.